Ode to Ouroboros, Dad

Another name for separation is division is the politics of mind. 

However, eight limbs of a spider sail across this living room by a single loving thread.

Dad, they say you died forty-four years ago tonight but still I wait to hear the peepers.

You hated Richard Nixon with a passion but you missed the great Apocalypse of Watergate. All in vain.

But like Jesus says thank God we're only in this world—for nothing of this world can change it.

In this circle of Archimedean things, division always ends in more division.

But where love is primary school and universal consciousness, the deeper understanding, all division is just imaginary numbers.

It's either become a bodhisattva and save the world or Buddha sees there's not a world to save. There is no difference. Either way.

Does the head devour the tail or does the tail emerge from out of the head?

General Absolution

The world is a drag

so I let it go.

For I am and there is are one.

But I am a person

and there is a world—

two sides of a false coin.

Essentially the world is a dream

of personal projection

dreamt to waken oneself.

Moreover the presence of others

is only made possible by one’s presence.

And in this presence

all is openly absolved.

Go in peace.

An Indian Romance Abridged

The first dream is the dream of one's conditioning

without the understanding there's a dream of one's conditioning.

The second dream is deconstruction of the first dream.

First there is a dreaming, then there is no dreaming, then there is.

When one has swallowed its tale completely, one finds the knot of being.

At the station in the middle of this material absurdity,

self-awareness is waiting for the train of absolution. Third dream.

No one needs you but yourself.

A person never helps.

When the teacher is ready, the student appears.

Between awareness and unawareness is

the quantum universe of one's conditioning.

Between unawareness and self-awareness is natural being.

And self-awareness is awareness

in the sudden and spontaneous apocalypse of absolution.

An Indian Romance

Learn a word and it appears.

When the subject seeks an object as the subject, fire!

Kokopelli in the desert breathes for you.

The first dream is the dream of one's conditioning

without the understanding there's a dream of one's conditioning.

The second dream is deconstruction of the first dream.

First there is a dreaming, then there is no dreaming, then there is.

When one has swallowed its tale completely, one finds the knot of being.

O. K. to the n. o. t.

At the station in the clusterfuck of this material absurdity,

self-awareness is waiting for the train of absolution. Third dream.

No one needs you but yourself.

A person never helps.

And with synchronicity, it is also said—

when the teacher is ready, the student appears.

Between awareness and unawareness is

the quantum universe of one's conditioning.

Between unawareness and self-awareness is natural being.

And self-awareness is awareness
in the sudden and spontaneous apocalypse of absolution.

Never underestimate but overestimation is like electrical bananas.

True adulteration comes before the inner child.

In later life I went to the woods to be a Native American sannyasi

and discovered India.

Shiva is 

watching 

his beloved

Shakti dance—

Shakti loves herself

some Shiva.

A Recipe for Enlightenment

Like absolution of an open space accepting being back into its fold.

Like the mouth of a thirteen billion year old snake

swallowing its long-awaited epilogue.

Like pure awareness clearing self-awareness

like an early arctic front refining a boreal climax forest clarity.

Ours not to do or die. Ours but to rest in self-awareness.

Listen to the red-winged blackbirds

but don't believe a note of what they sing.

As to the world, the sun thinks not but loves all.

Sing in the north, return to the southern self. This is my religion.

Be yourself and don't impersonate some other.

Make no new fears

but follow that holy mass in mass intent of burning love.

Dreaming makes all the difference in this world—

like the loving ouroboric acid of this lucid dream.

Life is the mystery I am.

Silence tells my story.

Sweet Jesus

Love is universal but the personal doesn't know that—

blue eyes crying like the sea.

Daughters giving birth to daughters,

Venus emerging ever from the waves,

love is the chrysalis of self-awareness.

Evolutionary enlightening intent smells like this holy spirit—

play that absolute music white boy black girl.

This self-awareness in the name of pure

awareness wants to take you higher.

Love may be patient and kind but love is not a thought.

Love is like I am before I know I am.

That being is this whispering of sweet nothings

between the god of pure awareness

and the goddess self-awareness.

first dream best dream

the only

cure is enlightenment

the only

disease is delusion

it's just

awareness

being

self-aware

esoteric incantation

i.

All bodies may be separate but there's one thing that i know—every voice is my voice.

In the beginning was the word and all you need is love and love is all you need.

Duality is dumb and dumber—keep on the sunny side and we'll be lovers once again.

It's like marketing is the greatest of dead ends but the grateful dead is always word of mouth

like knock knock knocking on that gateless gate.

All i have to do is dream dream dream dream.

My head is just this cosmic vision and my tail is just its universal feeling.

In this song, pure awareness has become that being like a mirror is an object for my growing self-awareness now

as if awareness being self-aware is binary as being one is knowing zero and vice versa.

Suffering is the school of my illusion.

Deconstructing one's conditioning is my so-called life.

Lucid dreaming is my understanding and nirvikalpi samadhi is the death of me.

ii.

between basho and shakespeare is another world

soap opera

where is ouroboros

seventh heaven

self-awareness

meanwhile project projection  

when the student is ready

the teacher appears

to say there's no

one to teach

but my

self

opening gone now one

red-winged blackbirds      

springtime snow

like daylight savings space-time

blank page

the word i am  

mystery of the chrysalis

instant hurricane         

EYE OF NOW AND TAO OF FROG            

seven stages is the world

unknown light in quantum post-atomic

living in molecular

organic animated self-awareness

boots and reboots

wood smoke on a winter morning dawn

maple syrup whole wheat waffles

the cold shower of wisdom

the warmth of the sun

don't think twice

love is all you need

in silence is awareness

self-awareness is at the heart of things

beyond yin and yang is the tao beyond

midnight

rose-colored dawn

wine dark sea

black hole

big bang

absolutely

one-pointedly

not binary

the holy trinity

four directions

one-pointedly

satori on the merrimack

inscription. all the world's fake news

and all the men and women merely phonies.

foreword. lucidly dream as if one is manifestly

universal consciousness and not the individual person

one is conditioned to think one is—

like an open head engorging its intuitive tale.

introduction. visionary declensions:

lucid, crystalline, bright, and incandescent.

if she dances, it's true.

fission is a vision but fusion is disillusion.

chapter one. note to self: act as if i am what i know i am

rather than what i think i am. embodying the ouroboric

in the form of a being. and in this revelation,

the old day is the new night.

chapter two. this is the old deep math:

the process is in seven steps per the law of three

where eight is infinite

and two is an unreal number.

the snake that swallows its tail, the holy spirit,

the holy ghost, and a deep transformative image.

when a falling angel goes to grab your arm,

don't turn it sideways so she falls into the sea.

chapter three. never mind

and a monkey’s tail.

embodiment in spirit

disembodied ghost.

consciousness is the dreaming

in deep images.

chapter four. while walking along the river on march eighth,

the sun suddenly feels real.

but at that moment a fifty-year-old memory of half moon lake

suddenly arises and like i'm real real gone.

this i know must be that so-called profound revelation,

kensho,

seeing the essential, first stage samadhi,

or satori on the merrimack.

afterword. between the subtle moments

besides a mountain pond

and the sudden sea,

it takes a river.

Nisargadatta calls it I Am.

don’t try to follow—

it will take you in

to the beyond.

.